𝔹𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ➂

𝟚𝟟.

I stare at the ceiling, sitting back in the desk chair in my room. I've been pondering the meaning of life for the past couple of hours, not being able to get a single wink of sleep. I blow out a deep sigh when I hear a light snore behind me. She was partially the reason I hadn't been able to but my mind was the main reason.

Every single time I close my eyes I see Amelia behind their lids. Her endless crying and blank expression when I'd been there had nearly broken me in two. What had done me in though was when she would look at me. That was the final nail in our coffin.

I don't know what she saw when she glanced at me but it was enough to hurt her bad. It hurt her so much so that she'd asked me to leave. Only after a few days had she pleaded with me to go until I'd finally agreed to it. The only reason I had was because of that haunted gaze that she gave me. It solidified what I'd thought; that I was part of her torment. Me.

I grab my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my missed messages, none of which are from the person I want them to be from. I click on my photos and click on the last picture of her and I together. It was a picture we'd taken on my birthday. Her head is on my shoulder and my lips are on her forehead. She's giving the camera a radiant smile. It's smile that hurts my heart.

I wonder what a little version of us would've looked like. Would they have my hair and her smile? Would the have my hazel eyes or her brown ones? I picture her belly heavy with my child and quickly toss the phone away from me. I've never even thought about being a dad before and now I can't stop fucking thinking about it.

I'm twenty-three years old. I don't need to be thinking about fatherhood.

"Morning stallion." I hear a voice say from behind me, solidifying my previous thought. "You're an early riser."

"Couldn't sleep." I mutter out, not really wanting to engage in conversation. "I've got to be getting to work soon so—" I let my words hang in the air, hoping she catches my drift.

"You work on the weekends?" Her groggy voice says as she begins to dress herself.

"Yeah, I'm a bartender." No, I don't and no, I'm not.

"Well, last night was a good time, Bright." She walks over to me once she's fully dressed and leans down, placing a kiss on my cheek. "Call me again sometime." She hands me a piece of paper she'd written on from a pad of paper on the nightstand.

"Will do." Nope. I watch as she walks out the door and immediately chuck her number in the waste basket.

✩✩✩

"You have all the paperwork?" I nod over to Luke, hating that we're in Boston again. I hate that we're going to have to be coming back often. I hate it because things are so awkward with Amelia and I.

We have only spoken a handful of times since she had the miscarriage. Every time we did she sounded depressed. When I was there it was like she couldn't even look at me and now she can't even talk to me. It's been an entire month with only a quick conversation and me wishing Amelia a happy birthday.